


The End Of Life As We Know It

by Ytteb



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 06:57:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6944401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytteb/pseuds/Ytteb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gibbs makes an announcement. Tony and Tim think it over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Special Agents Tony DiNozzo and Tim McGee were alone in the squad room and working, more or less diligently, on cold cases. It was nearly 4pm on Friday and they were hoping for a rare weekend off although Agent Gibbs had been in a meeting with the Director for half an hour and that rarely led to a good outcome.

"What do you think El Jefe is doing up there?" Tony asked as he closed the file he had been leafing through fruitlessly for twenty minutes.

Tim shrugged; he didn't know but his file was being equally miserly with juicy clues and he was ready to be diverted. He looked up and gazed up at the Director's office as if that would help him decide.

"Don't know, annual appraisals are due?" he offered.

"Good point. But they're not  _overdue_  yet, so I doubt the Boss has done them yet."

McGee nodded. He was relieved that he didn't have to face that trauma yet. It wasn't so much his own appraisal which was the problem although Gibbs' way of delivering the assessment tended to lack finesse. No, the real trauma arose with Tony's reaction to the results which was a curious mixture of nonchalance, bravado and obsession with the significance of each comma and period in Gibbs' report.

Tony was about to offer his own opinion on the Vance/Gibbs meeting when he was forestalled by Gibbs trotting down the stairs.

"Good meeting, Boss?" he asked neutrally while keeping his fingers crossed that they hadn't just been assigned a case which would last all weekend.

"You can go home now," said Gibbs, ignoring the question, "both of you."

"Boss?" asked McGee in surprise although he began to clear his desk even as he spoke. Tony had already switched his computer off and Tim winced at the thought that he probably hadn't closed any open programs. McGee hoped he had only had his movie quiz or Tetris open and that he wouldn't have to spend Monday restoring the DiNozzo computer to health.

"Go on," said Gibbs, "start the weekend early." His own desk was already clear and he was putting his coat on. Tim and Tony stood at their desks, ready to go.

"Have a good one, Gibbs," said Tony.

"See you Monday," said Tim.

They walked a couple of paces towards the elevator. Gibbs coughed. Tony and Tim stopped in their tracks; there was something odd about that cough. They turned towards their boss.

"Uh," he said, not meeting their eyes but concentrating on collecting his weapon, "I just told the Director that I'll be retiring at the end of the month. Good night." And he was gone, leaving his two agents gaping after him.

NCISNCIS

Tim wasn't quite clear how he and DiNozzo had ended up in a bar a couple of miles from the Navy Yard. He could only think that Tony, as befitted the Senior Field Agent, had come to his senses more quickly and had steered them both to some sort of sanctuary  _and_ got the pitcher of beer in.

"I can't believe it," said Tim. He had the feeling that he'd already said that a few times but, at that moment, there didn't seem to be anything else to say.

"I guess we shouldn't be surprised," said Tony, "after all, we all know that the Boss was coming up to the line," he took a sip of his beer, "just never expected him to step over it."

"I can't believe it," said Tim again.

"Did he jump or was he pushed?" wondered Tony.

"I can't believe it," was still all that McGee could say.

"Perhaps it's a joke," suggested Tony, "What do you think, Tim?"

"I can't believe it."

"I know it's difficult, Tim," said Tony trying to be patient, "but we have to face it."

"I can't believe it," said Tim.

Tony opened his mouth to answer but realised he had didn't have one so lapsed into silence. After five minutes of quiet only broken by the McGee chorus of "I can't believe it," Tony decided to assert himself. He coughed and Tim looked up hopefully; it was a 'taking charge' sort of cough.

"If we're going to get drunk," announced Tony, "I don't want to do it on an empty stomach. Let's order some food."

Oddly, ordering food with its careful weighing up of good and bad cholesterol, its consideration of carbohydrates versus protein, of fibre versus fat calmed Tim down. Tony, who had placed his order of steak and fries within seconds, sighed with relief when both orders had been made.

"Why do you think he told us like that?" asked McGee. Tony raised an eyebrow. "I guess we shouldn't be surprised that he didn't make a fuss," agreed Tim, "but that was a bit …"

"Extreme?" finished Tony, "even for Gibbs?"

"Yes," said Tim, absentmindedly stealing one of Tony's fries, "you don't think he's sick, do you?"

"Doesn't look like it," said Tony, "that head slap this morning felt healthily strong. Perhaps he's getting married?"

"Or fleeing the country because a redhead is after him?" suggested Tim.

They paused to imagine a panic stricken Gibbs running from a rampant redhead.

"Nah," said Tony finally.

"You going to ask him?" asked Tim.

"Me?"

"You've known him longer. And as you're always saying, you're the Senior …"

"… Field Agent. Yeah, I know. Not sure this is in the job description."

Tony took another gulp of his beer. He didn't seem to notice McGee's continued raids on his fries.

"Have I ever told you my Gibbs theory?" he asked.

McGee took a moment to consider. Tony seemed to have theories about most things and had favoured McGee with many over the years but he couldn't remember one about Gibbs. The shock of Gibbs' announcement was beginning to fade and McGee was in a mellower mood and ready for an excursion into what he had once called the 'rabbit warren' of Tony's mind. He was also calculating that he stood a stronger chance of continued incursions on Tony's plate of food if Tony was distracted by giving McGee the 'benefit of his experience'.

"No," he said, "don't think you have."

"Guess."

This was an unforeseen complication. Tim thought quickly. Tony's fingers were poised over a particularly fat fry which Tim coveted. A distraction was needed.

"He's gay?" offered Tim.

This worked better than he'd expected. Tony's fingers jerked back from his plate in shock. Tim's hand made its assault with all the deadly accuracy of a cruise missile.

"Gibbs gay?" mused Tony, "it has the benefit of alliteration," he conceded, he steepled his fingers, "but I'm not sure it fits the facts. What's your evidence, Tim?"

"Evidence?" squeaked Tim, blushing even at the thought of investigating whether Gibbs was gay, "I didn't mean it!"

"Oh," said Tony.

Tim couldn't decide if Tony was relieved or disappointed that McGee hadn't compiled a complete dossier on Gibbs' sexual orientation. It looked as if Tony might want to consider the issue a bit more fully so Tim hastened to ask,

"So what  _is_  your theory? You know, about Gibbs?"

"Well," said Tony casting a bewildered look at his empty plate, "you'll agree that our whole team has character … well … idiosyncrasies which only become apparent after long acquaintance?"

Tim smiled. He could tell Tony was in a good mood, he was using long words and forgetting to pretend that he didn't know what they meant. McGee nodded,

"Yes," he said, "wait a minute. What are my idiosyncrasies?"

He cursed himself for this rookie error; he had given Tony an opening he would not ignore.

"Well," said Tony happily, "you are the most law-abiding person I know."

Tim nodded. That didn't seem too bad.

"You never drive over the speed limit," continued Tony, "you close every gate after you, never walk on the grass, pay all your bills on time and never eavesdrop on a conversation."

Tim relaxed a bit more but then Tony's eyes narrowed and he leant forward in a slightly menacing way,

"And yet," he said.

Tim leant back into his chair,

"And yet," said Tony, "put you in front of a computer and you turn into this different person. You break down firewalls, ferret out information … you seem to regard secret data as both a personal challenge and an affront. You must admit that qualifies as an idiosyncrasy."

Tim fidgeted uncomfortably and reached for casualness and a change of subject, "So, what's your Gibbs' theory?" he asked.

Tony didn't answer immediately but gazed at Tim with something like sorrow, "you have to be careful, McHacker. I don't want to have to visit my Probie in prison, you know."

The strange picture of him looking forward to a DiNozzo prison visit to brighten his incarcerated life popped into McGee's head. He shook himself, "I don't think you've got a theory," he said, hoping to divert Tony from this uncomfortable train of thought.

Tony looked as if he was considering continuing the fight but he seemed to decide the pleasures of talking about his theory outweighed those to be had bantering with Tim.

"He's shy," he announced.

"Who is?" asked Tim.

"Gibbs. Gibbs is shy."

"Gibbs?"

"Yes."

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs? Ex-marine sniper? Ex-gunnery sergeant? Our Boss?"

"Yes."

"He's shy?"

"I knew you'd agree."

"That wasn't agreeing," said Tim, "that was still a question."

"Oh," said Tony, disappointed.

"What makes you think Gibbs is shy?" asked McGee but before Tony could answer, he continued, "Gibbs is the most confident person I know. He isn't frightened of anything or anyone. He's not shy."

"Ah, ah," said Tony, "I grant you that he's confident in what he does. But just look at how he deals with people."

"I am," said Tim, "he's frightens them to death."

"But that's because he's basically shy," said Tony.

"What?" asked Tim.

"It's smoke and mirrors," said Tony, "smoke and mirrors."

"What?" said Tim again.

"He's worked out that if he terrifies people, they won't want to interact with him. They'll leave him alone and they won't know that he's frightened of them."

"Frightened?" said McGee sceptically, "Gibbs? Frightened?"

"OK," conceded Tony, "frightened might be too strong a word. But the principle is still there. Gibbs is shy, doesn't know how to interact with people so he scares them off."

"So, all that barking and roaring is just for show?" asked a still doubtful Tim.

"He probably doesn't even realise it now," said Tony, "it's become natural for him but I think, right at the beginning, it was a way of coping."

"Coping with what?"

"Coping with the fact that his talents and compulsion to serve led him into work situations which needed a high degree of social interaction and communication."

"Wow," said McGee, "you've really given this some thought, haven't you?"

Tony shrugged modestly, "So what do you think?"

A thought struck McGee, "so, does it take one to know one?"

"What?"

"Do you recognise Gibbs as shy because you are too?"

"Too what?"

"Shy. Because you're shy."

What seemed a genuine laugh shook Tony's body, "Me? Me, shy?" He choked as he tried to gather breath.

"OK," said McGee, deciding to save the question of Tony's possible shyness for another time, "so, what is  _your_  idiosyncrasy?"

"What?" said Tony carelessly.

"You said that everyone had their idiosyncrasy. What's yours?"

"I'd have thought it was obvious," said Tony.

"Your nose," said Tim promptly.

"What about my nose?" said Tony defensively.

"It's big," said Tim.

"It's not," said Tony indignantly, as he stroked the feature in question, "it just fits the nobility of my profile. Gives it character. It might look large on other less well-formed faces but on mine it …"

"OK, OK," said McGee, "I …"

"And anyway," said Tony, "a nose isn't an idiosyncrasy. It's a physical feature."

"I apologise for drawing attention to your  _noble_  feature," said Tim, "so what's your quirk?"

"You mean it's not obvious?" said Tony with a touch of sadness.

"Not to me," said Tim promptly.

"Because you think I'm perfect?" said Tony hopefully.

Tim could not think of a reply that would be both truthful and tactful so he kept quiet.

"I need affirmation and to know that I'm loved," said Tony.

Tim thought about pointing out that that was two idiosyncrasies but decided not to, "now that you mention it," he said carefully, "I can see that in you."

"But, unfortunately," said Tony, " _my_  talents and compulsion to serve have led me to a team of emotionally stunted introverts who are incapable of appreciating me."

"Your compulsion to serve?" asked McGee.

"Yes," said Tony in a hurt voice.

"You?" said Tim.

"Hey, I let you eat my fries, didn't I? That was serving you, wasn't it?"

"Yes, you did," confirmed Tim, "and it was serving me. Thank you, Tony. I didn't mean to be insensitive." McGee realised that if he had eaten more than his share of the fries then Tony had drunk more than his share of the pitcher of beer. DiNozzo wasn't drunk but his emotions were nearer to the surface than usual. McGee decided to turn the subject back to Tony's analysis of Gibbs' character.

"You really think that the key to Gibbs' character is that he's shy?"

"Well, perhaps not the  _key,_ " admitted Tony, "but it explains a lot of things."

"Like?"

"Three marriages."

"You think being shy gets in the way of getting married?" asked Tim.

"I don't think it helps," said Tony, "and it certainly doesn't help with  _staying_  married."

"How so?"

"Sometimes small talk is really useful," said Tony, "you know, fills those silences. Can you imagine how many silences there were chez Gibbs while he was married?"

Tim wasn't convinced, "what else does it explain?"

"Today," said Tony.

"Eh?"

"The way he told us that he's retiring. He didn't know how to tell us so he decided to break the news as if it was completely trivial and routine. And then legs it before we can ask him about it."

"Damn," said Tim.

"What do you mean? You agree with me?"

"No. Well, maybe. No, I said damn because I'd forgotten for a moment."

"Forgotten what?"

"Forgotten that Gibbs is retiring. Damn."

"I know, Probie, I know," said Tony heavily, "what are we going to do now? What will we do without him?"

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An interlude at Gibbs' house the next morning.

"Hey, Boss."

Gibbs looked up from the plans stretched out on his workbench.

"Hey," he replied before continuing to look at the papers.

"That your next project?" asked DiNozzo as he drew near.

"Hmm," said Gibbs.

"Looks like a boat," said Tony.

"Glad all those years working for the Navy have worked out," commented Gibbs drily.

Tony gritted his teeth and continued, "Looks like a big one. Gonna build it in the basement?"

"Hmm."

"So. Retirement, eh?" said Tony doggedly.

"Hmm."

"Bit of a surprise."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow as he looked up from the plans.

"I mean, I knew you were old. That is, nearing the age, not  _old._  Just never expected you to actually do it, you know, retire."

"Thought I'd die with my boots on, did you?" asked Gibbs mildly.

"Yes. Not that I wanted you to die. Or want you to die. Well, you know that. Just didn't expect you to go quietly."

Gibbs shrugged.

"You're not sick, are you, Boss? I mean, that's not why you're going, is it?"

"Nope, I'm not sick."

"Good, that's a relief," Tony made a show of wiping his forehead. "Then why? Did Vance make you? 'Cos if he did, I reckon you could fight it."

Gibbs raised another expressive eyebrow.

"Course you could, Boss. Nothing you'd like better. Just saying. I'm sure Delores Bromstead could help. Not that you'd need help, of course. But, you know, if you did …"

Gibbs ran a finger over a line on the drawing, "don't need any help, DiNozzo."

"Then why?"

"Knees," offered Gibbs.

"Knees?"

"They feel older than the rest of me," said Gibbs.

"Oh," said Tony, "but you could still work for NCIS, couldn't you? You know, some sort of desk job?"

Tony encountered that eyebrow again.

"Maybe not. We'll miss you, Boss _. I'll_  miss you. You taught me everything I know." A Gibbs stare prompted an amendment, "well, everything I know about the  _job_. I guess there are things you didn't teach me."

"Didn't need to teach you much about the job, DiNozzo," said Gibbs, "you fit in pretty easily."

"It was fun, wasn't it?" said Tony reminiscently, "those days when it was just the two of us?"

"Fun?" asked Gibbs sceptically.

"OK, interesting," said Tony, "well, it was for me. Guess it might have been a bit old hat for you. Not that you're old, of course."

Tony's ramblings seemed to strike a chord with Gibbs and he smiled, "yeah. It was fun, Tony."

"Then why …?"

"It's time, Tony. Time for all of us. Me, Tim and you."

"I just can't imagine what it's going to be like without you," said Tony, "no glaring across the squad room, no head slaps, no two day old takeout in the bin, no unreasonable demands …" Tony looked up and saw a less than impressed look on Gibbs' face, "no incisive decision making, no expert questioning of witnesses, no masterful conclusions from the evidence," he added hastily.

"Better," approved Gibbs.

"I'm going to miss you, Boss. What am I going to do without you?"

"What do you  _want_ to do?" asked Gibbs.

Tony was surprised. It had been a rhetorical question to which he had not expected an answer.

"There's going to be a vacancy," said Gibbs, "you want to step up?"

"Can't see Vance giving me the job," said Tony.

Gibbs shrugged again, "Leon's a pragmatist. He'll choose the best person for the job."

"And you think that's me?"

"You've done it before," observed Gibbs, "Jenny thought you did a good job."

"Big shoes to fill," said Tony.

Gibbs looked down at his feet, "not so big," he said.

"People would be making comparisons all the time," said Tony. "There's a lot to live up to. Following a legend."

"I'm not a legend," said Gibbs.

"Respectfully, Boss, you know you are."

"Always thought you were hanging on to take over from me," said Gibbs.

"That's what I thought too," said Tony.

"And now? You want to do sterling work somewhere else?"

Tony looked at Gibbs suspiciously but didn't rise to the bait, "McGee is traumatised, you know. Had to take him to a bar last night and let him steal my fries."

"Traumatised?" queried Gibbs.

"He's sensitive, Boss. Doesn't like change. Can't make it compute. He'll be lost without you."

"You mean I've had an agent on my team all these years who's so insecure he can't handle change?" demanded Gibbs.

"Well …" temporised Tony.

"Doesn't say much for my qualities as leader, does it?" demanded Gibbs.

"I wouldn't say that …"

"Perhaps it  _is_  time I went."

"OK," said Tony, "perhaps I exaggerated a tad."

"You think?"

"All right, I admit it. But, Boss, we will miss you."

"You've said."

"Gibbs, did you really think we wouldn't care? I'm not kidding, McGee was in a real spin last night. Needed a lot of bringing down."

"And you were there to do it, Tony. You've always been there to do it, to take one for the team."

"You saying I should go for your job?"

"What does it matter what I think, DiNozzo?"

"Hard to break the habit, Boss. What  _you_  think has mattered for a long time. It's kinda hard to break free of that."

"Perhaps it's time to."

"I guess it's what people expect," said Tony thoughtfully.

"Don't do it because you think it's what people expect. What  _I_  expect. Do it because you want to or don't do it at all."

"You mean stay as I am?"

"What  _you_  want, Tony. Do what  _you_  want, that's what I'm saying."

"Didn't you just tell me that it doesn't matter what you think?" said Tony cheekily.

"Just because I'm retiring doesn't mean I can't still head slap you," said Gibbs.

"Hey," said Tony in sudden alarm, "you're not going to Mexico again, are you?"

"Nothing for me there," said Gibbs, "no, I'm staying put."

"Good," said Tony, "I'd miss having a basement where I could come to be grunted at."

"Go home, DiNozzo," said Gibbs, "I've got a boat to start building."

"And a leaving party to get ready for," said Tony.

"DiNozzo …"

"You have met Abby Scuito, haven't you? Forensic scientist and party organizer extraordinaire? You really think she's not going to throw the party of the century?"

"Go," ordered Gibbs, "we've still got work on Monday."

"OK, Boss," said Tony. He got to the foot of the stairs and turned back, "Sterling work?" he queried.

"Go," said Gibbs with a wave of his hand.

NCISNCIS

Shortly afterwards Gibbs went upstairs to get a refill of coffee. As he stood at the sink he heard a gentle tap at his door; he looked up to see McGee standing in his hallway. Gibbs gave a half smile as he realised that McGee was one of the few people who hadn't been for a heart to heart in his basement.

"Coffee, Tim?" he asked.

"Er, sure, Boss," said Tim calculating that, as it was early afternoon, there was plenty of time for the caffeine to leave his system before bed time.

Gibbs nodded towards the kitchen table and Tim took a seat a little nervously.

"Uh, Boss," he said, "Did you mean what you said yesterday? You know, about retiring?"

Gibbs' eyebrows were getting a workout that day.

"Of course," said McGee hastily, "you never say things you don't mean. I guess that means you're retiring?"

Gibbs took a gulp of his coffee in a confirmatory sort of way.

"It wasn't a joke?" said McGee weakly.

McGee took a moment to realise that Gibbs' coffee sips were as eloquent as his eyebrows. "Of course not." He sipped at his coffee. "You're not sick, are you, Boss?"

Gibbs couldn't help but think it would have been more efficient if Tony and Tim had come together. He sighed and said,

"Knees."

Tim looked puzzled for a moment but the instinct to obey was still strong and he lowered himself to the floor.

"What the hell you doing?" asked Gibbs in shock.

"I don't know, Boss. I'm doing what you told me."

"Knees, McGee.  _My_  knees. They're getting old."

"Oh,  _knees_ ," said Tim, "oh, I see." He got to his feet but resisted the temptation to brush the knees of his pants in case Gibbs took it as casting aspersions on the standard of his housekeeping. "Sorry, Boss. Sorry, I mean, not sorry. Just … it's just that I misunderstood."

"It's OK, Tim," said Gibbs, "quick reactions like that could save your life in the field."

Tim looked happy at the compliment and Gibbs was pleased that he hadn't completed his thought by saying  _and make you look a complete idiot anywhere else._

"We'll miss you, Boss," said Tim, "and I don't know what Tony will do without you."

Gibbs had finished his coffee so had to rely on his eyebrows to do the talking for him.

"Had to take him to a bar to calm down," Tim observed, "I stole his fries but even that didn't snap him out of his funk."

"You had his six," said Gibbs with a straight face.

"Try to, Boss, I try to," said McGee sincerely.

"Good job, McGee."

"It won't be the same without you, Boss," said McGee.

Gibbs shrugged; there wasn't much to say about that.

"Do you think Tony will take your place?"

The eyebrow twitched.

"Not that anyone could take your place, Boss," said McGee hastily, "I didn't mean that. You're irreplaceable."

"Nobody's irreplaceable," said Gibbs, "and certainly not me."

"It's not going to be the same," said Tim.

"Change can be good," said Gibbs.

"Are you feeling all right, Boss?"

"What?"

"Well, you know, I just didn't think you were much of a fan of change."

"I can change," protested Gibbs, "when it's necessary."

McGee nodded, manfully suppressing comments about Gibbs' devotion to his old cell, his refusal to use power tools and his incomprehension when presented with an IPod.

"Still, it won't be the same."

Gibbs wondered why he had never before noticed McGee's tendency to repeat himself, "so you said."

"Do you think the Director will give Tony the job?"

"What job?"

"Your job. I mean, not your job but the job of … well, the job you're doing at the moment."

"Don't know," said Gibbs, "don't know if DiNozzo will apply for it."

"Of course he'll apply for it," said Tim, "it's what he's been waiting for, isn't it? I mean, he hasn't been waiting for you to go. He's not glad you're going. That's to say …"

Unusually, Gibbs showed mercy, "I know what you mean Tim. I'm just saying. Don't assume Tony's going to apply for the job."

"But … but … that would mean someone else would get the job," said Tim.

Gibbs wondered if he should make a plate of fries for McGee to steal so he would calm down.

"So?"

"But then it wouldn't be you or him," said Tim worriedly.

"You could apply," pointed out Gibbs.

"Me?"

Gibbs went to the cupboard and produced a cookie jar. He opened it and placed it on the table in front of McGee. Tim began feverishly to empty the jar and arrange the contents in a pattern.

"Do you think I could do it?" he said wonderingly.

"Doesn't matter what I think," said Gibbs with a feeling of déjà vu.

"Uh, Boss, it's going to take a while before that sinks in. It's sort of a habit to do what you think."

"Times change," said Gibbs kindly.

"Do you really think Tony's not going to apply for your job, I mean, the job?"

"Talk to him," advised Gibbs, getting up to return to the basement.

McGee's mouth fell open in astonishment at Gibbs recommending  _talking_  to someone.

"Yes, Boss," he said.

"And clear up this mess before you go," ordered Gibbs, pointing to the mess of cookie crumbs on the table.

"Yes, Boss," said Tim, "yes, Boss ..."

 


	3. Chapter 3

A few days later Tony and Tim went for lunch at a café overlooking the river.

"Is that what you're having with your sandwich?" asked McGee in a tone which suggested both disappointment and bewilderment.

Tony looked at the bowl of carrot and celery sticks and then at McGee, "Sure," he said, "I reckon the last few days haven't been good for the McPhysique."

Tim affected ignorance, "I don't know what  _your_  side order has to do with  _my_  body," he said loftily.

"Suit yourself," said Tony. He took a bite of his sandwich and then said, "So. What you going to do?"

"What are  _you_  going to do?" asked Tim, instinctively snaffling a carrot stick.

"That's what Gibbs asked me," said Tony, "asked me if I was going to go and do  _sterling_  work somewhere else."

"What did that mean?" asked Tim as he crunched on a piece of celery.

Tony didn't answer directly, "does it still feel odd to you?" he asked, "you know, Gibbs retiring?"

"Have you ever felt an earthquake?" asked Tim.

"No, have you?"

"No, but I think it would feel like this. Something you take for granted suddenly shaking, not being secure."

"Might be a good thing," mused Tony.

"Earthquakes are good?" asked Tim.

"No. Earthquakes are bad," said Tony firmly.

"Then what are you talking about?" McGee, feeling under pressure, stole another carrot.

Tony sighed, looked at his empty bowl and raised a hand to order another side of crudités. "I meant that something you take for granted suddenly not being there might be a good thing."

"I'm not following you."

"It's beginning to feel a bit liberating," said Tony, "thinking the unthinkable, facing the unfaceable, tackling the un …"

"Yeah, I get the idea," said Tim. "Hey, this isn't leading up to a movie reference, is it?"

"Oooh," said Tony, "I hadn't thought of that. But no, no movie reference. What I mean is, that once you're over the trauma you might find this whole Gibbs retiring thing to be not all bad."

"I don't know," said Tim worriedly nibbling on another carrot.

"Time to dream the dream, Tim; live the life, reach for the stars, aim for …"

"You sure this isn't a movie reference?" said McGee.

"Maybe," conceded Tony, "when you're soaked in movie …"

"Trivia?" suggested Tim.

"… history and facts," corrected Tony, "it's not always possible to remember every source. What I'm saying is …"

"There's a silver lining to every cloud?"

"Exactly."

"A pot of gold at the end of every rainbow?"

"If you say so, although I'm not sure how Gibbs leaving is a rainbow but you're the McNovelist."

"Good comes out of …"

"Yes, yes," said Tony impatiently, "you've got the hang of it but we've only got ten minutes before we have to be back. Gibbs hasn't mellowed so much that he won't have us cleaning the evidence garage with a toothbrush if we're late."

"So we should seize the moment?" said McGee.

"Yes," said Tony firmly.

"And what are you going to do?" asked Tim, "You know, to seize  _your_ moment?"

"I've filled in my application," said Tony.

"And mine is on my desk," said Tim, "I'm going to make hay while …"

"Come on, McGee," said Tony wearily, "you can tell me the rest while we walk back."

NCISNCIS

Dr Mallard was sitting pensively at his desk in Autopsy when Jimmy Palmer arrived.

"Good morning, Dr Mallard, what's that you're looking at?"

"Ah, good morning, Mr Palmer. Yes, this is something I found among my mother's possessions when she died. It's a paperweight. Look, it's a dandelion clock perfectly preserved in glass."

"It's beautiful, Doctor," said Jimmy earnestly.

"It is, isn't it? Something so fragile, so transitory yet frozen in time."

"Yes," said Jimmy, a little puzzled.

"It seems to me, Mr Palmer, that we have been like this dandelion."

"We have?"

"Yes. Stuck in time. Not in a bad way, I hasten to say, but motionless all the same."

"Doctor?"

"I'm sure this is fanciful but it seems to me that Agent Gibbs' decision to retire has perhaps  _unfrozen_  us."

"Yes?"

"Yes, he is such a powerful personality that we have somehow, I don't know, been almost enchanted by his presence, in thrall to him."

"Enchanted?" said Palmer doubtfully.

"Well, perhaps enchanted is the wrong word. Nevertheless, after the initial shock, I find the idea of  _change_ , following dear Jethro's departure to be rather liberating."

"You do?"

"Yes," said Ducky firmly, "I do. Now, Mr Palmer, I must ask you to brace yourself."

"You must?"

"Yes, indeed, I insist."

"Very well, Doctor."

"In fact, it would probably be best if you sat, Mr Palmer."

"OK," said Jimmy as he obediently hopped on to an autopsy table.

"There is no easy way to say this, Mr Palmer," said Ducky solemnly, "I have decided to retire."

"Retire?"

"Retire. I have decided to write my family history. The Mallard contribution to Scottish history has been overlooked. I feel, that in my twilight years, I should correct that omission. But I fear I cannot write this treatise while still fulfilling my duties as Medical Examiner."

Jimmy was silent.

"Do you understand what I have just said, Mr Palmer?"

"Yes, Doctor. Um, I hope … um, I'm sure it will be an … interesting read."

"Mr Palmer," said Ducky, "if you don't mind my saying so, and I say this with all due modesty, you don't seem quite as … upset as I might have expected."

"Oh. Well. You see …"

"Out with it, Mr Palmer," said Ducky commandingly.

"Well, you see. That dandelion clock thing."

"Yes?"

"I understand what you mean."

"You do?"

"Absolutely. And so …"

"Yes?"

"I've decided that although working with you has been, well, better than I could ever have expected. And I will always be grateful to you for giving me the job. And for all the knowledge you have imparted and …"

"Yes, yes, Mr Palmer."

"I've decided, and Breena agrees, that it's a bit early in my medical career to be specialising as a Medical Examiner. And so …"

"And so?"

"I applied for a place on a paediatrics programme at Georgetown University Hospital."

"And?"

"I was accepted. I start in a month."

"Bravo, Mr Palmer, bravo!"

NCISNCIS

"Gentlemen," said the Director, "come in. Sit down."

Tim and Tony sat down in front of the Director's desk. Tony sighed when he realised there were no snacks for Tim to pilfer.

The Director pointed to two folders on his desk, "I wanted to discuss the applications you have both submitted."

Tony and Tim nodded.

"Agent McGee," I was pleased to see your application. However, are you aware of the one that Agent DiNozzo has made?"

"Uh, no, Director. Although I think I could guess."

"I see."

"But Tony … Agent DiNozzo and I agreed that we would follow our dreams, dance to the beat …"

"McGee!" said the Director in a surprised voice.

"Uh, Agent McGee has found the last few days … difficult," said Tony tactfully, "what he means to say is that we came to our decisions separately and independently."

"Yes," said McGee a little sheepishly, "as Agent DiNozzo said."

"I see," said Vance magisterially. "Well, if Agent DiNozzo does not object, I will show you his application and see if that causes you to change your mind. Agent DiNozzo?"

"I have no objection, Director," said Tony formally.

The Director handed the folder to Tim who read the contents and then looked up in astonishment.

Tony shrugged.

NCISNCIS

"Hi, Tony, Hi, Tim," said Abby as they entered her lab.

They stood by the door, a little unnerved by the unusual silence in Abby's domain.

"Er, Abs," said Tony after a while, " _you_  asked  _us_  down here, you know."

"I know," said Abby. She walked over to them and draped an arm round their necks, "you know that I love you both, don't you?"

"Sure. Of course," they replied, still wary.

"Has Ducky shown you his cool paperweight?" she asked.

"The one with the pickled thumb?" asked McGee.

"No," said Abby, "but that one is really neat too. No, the one with the frozen dandelion clock."

"Ah," said Tony, "the one which kicked off his theory of us all being enthralled by Gibbs? Stuck in a Gibbs warp?"

"Yes," said Abby.

"Then yes," said Tony, "we've seen it."

Silence fell.

"OK," said Tim finally, "good to talk. We'll be heading back."

"No," wailed Abby, "don't go."

"OK, Abs," said Tony pacifically, "we'll stay."

"You know that I don't want Gibbs to retire," said Abby, "I really, really, really don't want him to go."

"We know, Abby," said Tim, thinking that the lab being draped in black since the announcement was a pretty good clue, "we know."

"But," said Abby, "I do sort of get what Ducky meant."

"You do?" asked Tim.

"Yes. Which is kind of weird because I don't really do change."

"We know," agreed Tony as he remembered the dirges that Abby had been playing for days.

"But," said Abby, "it is sort of liberating."

"Yes!" said Tim enthusiastically, "it's like finding your star, climbing every mountain …"

"McGee!" said Tony firmly, "hush, this is Abby's moment."

"Oh, yes, of course, sorry," said McGee penitently.

"You know all those head-hunters that contact me?" said Abby.

"Who you turn down?" asked Tony.

"Yes. Well, I got this offer."

"Yes?" said Tim.

"From this company who are looking at new ways to trial experimental drugs without animal testing."

"Sounds good," said Tony cautiously.

"It's  _wonderful_ ," said Abby, "and I think I could do it really well. I mean, don't get me wrong. I've loved doing my work here. But I think it's time …"

"To take the road less travelled," said Tim who was thoroughly in the swing of searching out clichés. "The path ..."

"Yes," said Abby, "I knew you'd understand."

NCISNCIS

"That was a surprise," said the Director to Gibbs.

"What?" asked Gibbs.

"You don't think Dr Mallard, Palmer and Miss Scuito all deciding to leave was a surprise?"

"Sure, but you've got used to that by now," said Gibbs, "although Bishop had a shock when she got back from that course at Quantico."

"Indeed," said Leon, "but I meant this leaving party was a shock. Who'd have thought that Miss Scuito would have organized a  _tea_  party as your leaving do?"

Gibbs shrugged, "there was coffee as well. I thought it kinda fitted. Ducky likes tea. Abby likes cupcakes. She brought donuts with sprinkles for McGee. DiNozzo and Palmer will eat pretty much anything."

"McGee's not leaving," the Director pointed out.

"You decided what to do about that?" asked Gibbs.

"I was surprised," admitted Vance, "once he knew what DiNozzo was doing, I expected him to change his mind."

"He didn't though."

"No. Although he seems to have found this poetic streak lately. Have you noticed?"

"Hard not to," said Gibbs, "it'll wear off."

"Hope so," said Leon, "not sure how well that stuff would go down in Cybercrimes."

"That's where's he going then?"

"Told him this morning. He was the obvious candidate to head up the new department."

Gibbs nodded with satisfaction.

"So long as he lays off the philosophising," added Vance a trifle gloomily.

"And DiNozzo? What about his application?" asked Gibbs.

"Ask him yourself," said the Director mysteriously, "looks as if he's waiting for you."

Gibbs looked up and saw Tony on the other side of the room.

"He said he'd give me a ride home. Guess he didn't know that Abby had organised a dry celebration!" He cast a last look round the squad room, scene of so much that had been important to him for years and then held out a hand to the Director, "Thank you, Director. It's been an honour."

"Not a pleasure?" asked Leon drily as he took the hand.

"That too, Leon," said Gibbs with his characteristic half-smile, "that too."

NCISNCIS

"Where do you want all this?" asked Tony as he staggered through Gibbs' front door weighed down by bags of greetings cards and farewell presents.

"On the floor by the window," ordered Gibbs, "I'll sort it out later."

"I could put the cards up for you," offered Tony.

Gibbs glared at him.

"I promise not to read all the messages," said Tony hastily.

"Want a drink?" asked Gibbs hoping to prevent Tony decorating his room.

"Always," said Tony as he accepted a beer.

"Steak?" asked Gibbs.

"Sure," said Tony.

"I'll get it ready," said Gibbs.

"Need a hand?" asked Tony.

"No," said Gibbs, "here, read a book if you get bored waiting."

He took a book from a shelf and handed it to Tony who froze when he saw what it was.

Sometime later, as they companionably chewed their steaks, Tony broke the silence,

"How did you know?"

"What? The  _sterling_  work?"

"Yep."

"When I went to visit Dad. He had a shelf of Dan Sterling books."

"He did?"

"Yes, he didn't read a whole lot so I asked him about them. He said you sent him the first one."

"I remember. It was a thank you for that sweater."

"He said. Said he read the first one and enjoyed it. Easy to read, he said, short stories. Basketball coach who keeps ending up in the middle of mysteries."

Tony continued to eat his food.

"I read one too," continued Gibbs, "it was good. Combination of sports and detective work."

Tony took a gulp of his beer.

"And there was something familiar about the writing style. So I played a hunch. Looked in your personnel file."

Tony sighed. "And it was there."

"Your notification to HR that you had additional part-time work as an author."

"I've got friends from Ohio who work for some of the big teams," said Tony, "they give me some background. And well, the detective bit. I don't really need help with that."

"They're good books, Tony," said Gibbs.

"Short stories are pretty easy to write," said Tony, "easy to fit in with work. Even working for a demanding boss like you."

"Washington Post gives you good reviews," said Gibbs.

"You been doing research, Gibbs?"

"It's just picking up a newspaper," said Gibbs, "even I can manage that. The reviewers say that you're a good writer but that you should move up to novels. They say that you've got a ‘lyrical style that will only be fully realised if you're no longer constrained by the short story format’."

"Wow, Boss," said Tony, "you're beginning to sound like McGee."

"Well?" said Gibbs.

"Well, what? Why did I keep quiet about it?"

"For one," said Gibbs.

"They took off slowly," said Tony, "didn't want people to know in case it didn't work out."

"And when they did?"

"Felt a bit odd to say. And it was nice to have something completely separate. Hey, you should understand that. You know about secrets."

"Have you told McGee?" asked Gibbs.

"Yes. When he found out about my application."

"What'd he say?"

"He's in shock. Guard your snacks and fries. You leaving and me turning out to be a writer has rocked his world."

Gibbs smiled. "And that  _application?_ "

"Approved by the Director. One year's sabbatical to write that novel. Got an advance from the publisher. Scary stuff."

"And after a year?"

"Back to NCIS. See what opportunity there is. Which star I can hitch my wagon to, which mountain I can …"

Gibbs slapped his head. Tony grinned.

"It's been good, hasn't it, Boss?"

"Yes."

"We did good things, didn't we?"

"Yes. We did."

"To the future."

"To the future, Anthony. And I want a free copy of that novel."

"Hey. Impoverished author here. Buy one like everyone else has to!"

Gibbs glared at him, a toned down version but still a glare.

"Yes, Boss. Of course. I may even dedicate it to you."

Gibbs looked pleased.

"If you let me into the secret of getting those boats out of the basement!"

"In your dreams, Tony, in your dreams!"

"Semper fi, Boss, semper fi."

They clicked their beer bottles and settled down to watch the flames dancing in Gibbs' fireplace. The world had stopped shaking and seemed full of possibilities.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ________________________________________  
>  I didn't intend to disband the whole team when I started this but it just happened! I wrote this long before we knew that Tony was leaving in canon but part of me wondered whether the team would somehow disband without Gibbs holding them in place. We'll never know now!


End file.
